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Percy didn't think his day could get any worse.

It had been over a day since he had been claimed, and he still had people veering out of the way whenever he walked past them, or sticking their arms in their sleeves as though if they got within five feet or him they'd be frozen solid. The only one that would come near him was Annabeth, but all she would do would make him feel like some sort of science-fiction experiment. "Is your normal body temperature that cold? Can you create ice out of nothing, or do you need to be near water? I wonder why you don't look like your dad- he has white hair and blue eyes. And apparently, no one calls him Jokul Frosti. He's actually Jack Frost!" She'd glance at the sky, which was always clear. "Would your mood affect the weather?"

Percy had tried to take it. He really had. But after listening to this for about an hour non-stop, he replied that his emotions didn't control the weather, because if they did everyone would be frost bitten during the biggest blizzard ever. He'd stalked off in the two milliseconds it had taken her manic brain to feel affronted.

Right now, he was in the stables, giving food and water to the Pegasi. It could definitely be more worse, too, because he thought the horses liked him. He now knew the rumors that a giant tan Pegasus named Porkpie would trample anyone to death were not true.

"You're not a monster, huh, girl?" He muttered to the winged creature as he poured its food with one hand and rubbed its muzzle with the other. He received a sharp, albeit gentle nip on his finger. "Ow!" He hissed, shaking out the red mark on his index. "Ok, ok, BOY." Porkpie nuzzled his hand again. With a small smile, Percy pulled away and grabbed the enchanted bucket by the stall- a gift from Hecate, someone said, to always be full of cold water and as light as a feather. Hoping to ease the slight sting in his finger, he absentmindedly skimmed the tip over the clear surface–

Frost shot out from where his finger had touched it and he dropped it in shock with a loud bang! That sent several of the horses whinnying shrilly in surprise. "Quiet!" He hissed, frustrated, and to his surprise they all fell silent. He leaned over the bucket, which had fallen on its side. Mentally kicking himself, and careful not to touch it, he circled it until he saw the opening.

The water was frozen solid.

Percy threw back his head and groaned. He would be in so much trouble. He turned and glared at the bucket.

Something cold seemed to expand in his stomach, swelling through his body and rushing to his fingertips. He jumped when, with a magnificent sloshing, the ice turned to water and gushed wetly across the barn floor, the ever-refilling depth pumping more and more liquid to compensate for its losses. With a yelp, Percy dove forward, careful not to touch it, nicking the handle with his fingertips so that it was upright once more, leaving calm once again.

This wasn't going to be easy.

By the time he'd successfully gotten all the horses watered, his clothes were glossy under a layer of ice (partially melted in the warm air and still half frozen by his own body temperature), patches of rime coated his face like a medieval stubble, and his hair was stiff with cold and tipped with frost.

He really needed to get some control over his powers.

Now, as the sky was dark, he was struggling to read one of his Greek textbooks in order to find out more about his 'father.' After he'd taken a shower and had dinner, of course (Speaking of, he'd discovered that there was no such thing as a good hot shower. He was only figuring this out now because the water at Yancy and his Mom's apartment had probably always been cold to begin with. Hot water hurt for him) and was now shifting uncomfortably beneath his shirt, which was irritating the light, tender burns on his shoulder from when he'd first gotten in. Thankfully the water hadn't froze when it touched him.

He felt almost normal as sat on his bunk in Cabin Thirteen. According to Annabeth, it had been built when Chiron had been visited for the first time by his father about twelve years ago–not that anyone had seen him. From what Annabeth could guess, Jack Frost had asked Chiron to build him a cabin here, and didn't say why. Chiron had gotten it done, and he'd done pretty awesome—that much Percy could admit.

To Percy, it looked the least...Greek. From the outside, it was made from soft white stone and a winter-sky blue roof. No matter what the temperature was outside, or what season, people swore the doorknob was always freezing.

The inside was pale hardwood flooring, blank white walls, several tall windows, and surprisingly, a bookshelf full of titles he hadn't yet bothered to find out. While there were beds on the actual floor, Percy had chosen a top bunk. They really weren't like normal bunk beds either- they were designed, as far as Percy could tell, to minimize the feeling of being trapped. The 'top bunks' were actually anchored securely to the wall, accessible by ladders, set right against enchanted windows that were nearly floor to ceiling- people outside would could never see in, kind of like one way glass, except that Percy couldn't see them either unless he wanted to. It would be like they weren't even there. While it was kind of strange, he liked the quiet. It also came in handy when you didn't want someone to like, watch you sleep. Not that he slept easy. It wasn't the bed's fault, piled with fluffy white pillows and a soft blue quilt. Every time he closed his eyes at night, he'd see his mom... You know.

Finally, finally, Percy found the section on Jack Frost after combing the microscopic table of contents. It was hardly more than a few paragraphs, and the first under the 'seasonal spirit' section.

Summary: Jack Frost, while cited in a mortal song and mortal folklore, actually came to be after many of the mentions, making him relatively young to most Gods. The earliest mention of him is in 1712, when he surfaced in a small American town in the state of Pennsylvania. His heritage is unknown.

Use: Jack Frost is known as the Shepherd of Winter, and brings the winter season to the world.

Powers: It is known that Jack Frost can create blizzards and snowfall by summoning rain clouds and freezing them. In addition, he is also known for being able to fly, or ride the north wind. Like most gods, he has control over what age he appears. Although, while most gods keep their outward age to the high twenties or lower thirties, Jack Frost almost always manifests as a teenager.

The information abruptly ended there. All Percy knew was that on the next page there would be a magical number with the ability to change that would tell the number of children he had ever had, but Percy just snapped the book shut. Even though the cabin was yawningly empty, proving that he didn't have any living family, three hundred years was still a long time, and he wasn't interested in the number of women his dad had knocked up in the past few centuries.

So that was it, then? No picture, no face, nothing about him, just...that? Percy sighed and flopped back on his pillows, sinking into the soft, fluffy white. Despite how comfy he was, he didn't want to sleep.

Huffing with resignation, he just, you know, thought he'd give those books a chance. Even if he couldn't read them with his dyslexia. He slid down the ladder and padded over to the tall pine bookshelf, fraught with several titles. He blinked and honed on the one closest to him. Pride and Prejudice? He could read it because he'd heard of it somewhere. No offense to author, but it hadn't sounded so great. He skimmed a few down and chose a random one. Fire Height 415? No, he blinked. Fahrenheit 451. That sounded weird, but interesting. He opened it to a random page, and to his surprise a sheet of paper came tumbling out.

Percy frowned, confused. He bent over and picked it up. It was a sheet of notebook paper, the edges ripped and crinkled as if it had been torn from a spiral notebook. It was covered front to back in scrawled, messy handwriting, and for a moment Percy thought it was his own, yet had no memory of writing it. Then, he saw tiny differences– the I's on this paper were dotted, while Percy's were made of short lines. The letters like e, a, n, h, and even r ran into the letters next to them, like it was half-cursive. Percy would never do that. Curious, he squinted at the writing, finding it strangely easy to read- probably because he recognized it.

I find it weird that I'm stopping at the part of this book where Montague sets Beatty on fire, killing him, as his wife left him, when I have just found out that Sally is pregnant! I can't believe it! (Odder still, isn't this book all about burning books, and how their illegal, and how Montague is burning them, and then he gets all conflicted because he doesn't want to anymore and it just gets awkward...? Yeah, It's a book about how books are burned and illegal and yet I'm writing notes in it... That could one day be a book at this rate... Man, I'm just shaming Ray Bradbury right now. I watched him with respect as he typed up this story on his dime-an-hour computers, but now I'm just shaming the guy).

Percy couldn't help it; he laughed slightly. These scattered thoughts were eerily familiar.

His breath caught in his throat. Sally is pregnant...

Could this be...his father's?!

Frantic, Percy turned his attention back to the words.

Anyway, I'm going to be a dad! I still can't wrap my head around the fact. Will it be a boy or girl? I can't say I have a preference, but what the hell would I name them? Could we name the girl (if it was one) Emma? After my sister? Or, if it was a boy, what about Perseus? That was like the luckiest Greek hero in history! Gosh! Ok, a nursery... We now have a use for that spare room.

I'm going to be a dad! Okay, now it's time for a baby name list to show Sally.

Girl:

Sally (haha, little Sally Jr.)

Emma

Anne

Percy's heart leaped painfully in his throat when he saw familiar handwriting, neater and smaller than the first.

Kellany

Kathryn

Renee

Boys:

(Back to the first set of writing)

Leo

Perseus

Jason

Levi

Sally's handwriting appeared)

Carter

Chase

Joshua (this one was circled)

Jack Jr.

His father's handwriting appeared.

No offense to Sally, but what kind of name is Jack Jackson? Or Jack Jackson Jr.? No. Wait, Sally just said that she would let me give our baby my last name! Okay, then, I'm still going for Perseus Frost. Very original, if I do say so myself. Kid, whoever you are, if you see this, tell me I'm a genius and tell your mom, no doubt a best selling author, that she's beautiful and perfect.

Tell me I look good for my age!

The note abruptly ended, and Percy felt oddly breathless. The other kids at camp had told him that their godly parents cared nothing for them. But this... His father seemed almost human. Like, he actually had feelings. Percy blinked. Maybe they all did, but never showed it... The way Jack Frost was talking made it seem like he was intending to raise Percy like any normal dad— meaning he'd be there! But what had changed?

He found that his hands were shaking. This seemed almost too good to be true. He stuffed the paper back in the page, slipped it back into its place, and pulled out Pride and Prejudice. His heart leapt when he saw the words, As we come to a rather uneventful part of this book, I think I'll start leaving notes... This was the beginning.

Percy lost himself in the History of his father, Jack Frost.

soooo, yeah. I hope you like it! PS: To those of you who said you didn't like Jack being separated from Percy and Sally...well, I'm just gonna say: Loopholes.

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